The Youngblood Legacy: 18. Midnight Outing

Life...even without Christin did go on.
The years passed and as hard as I tried to put on a happy face for the kids I just couldn't crawl out of the shadow of grief that followed me everywhere. I know its effecting the kids, I know I need to do something.

Constance had her grandfather's artistic nature and filled her spare time at her easel. As she gets older she looks more and more like her mother. I think she has noticed the pain in my eyes when I look at her and I fear that she is blaming herself, she has distanced herself from me...I can't say I don't blame her.

Carson remains in his room when he's at home. He types away at his novels and has stated that he enjoys the escape that writing brings him. The only person he seems close to is his sister.

One lonely night I walked to the cemetery. I'm not sure what I was looking for or what I expected to find but it all began with a story my mother used to tell me when I was a very small boy......

She used to tell me about a dark land. A land ruled by darkness. The story was always very vivid, as if it wasn't a story at all but an actual part of her history.

In this land death was not an end but a beginning and the ghost from the land of darkness were called upon they would reveal the secret of bringing back those who we've lost.

My mother was my only connection to these dark world myths so I followed my instinct and went to the Youngblood family plot. I felt no fear but was a little uncomfortable as I called out my mothers name into the quiet darkness.

What happened next was nothing short of miraculous. The ground trembled slightly and bright starry lights began to appear before me.

In a few short seconds my mother, Audra Youngblood, appeared before me.

I'm not sure how I kept my composure. Here was my mother, my dead mother standing before me. She began speaking and a warm calm filled my soul.
"My dear Bishop, I know why you're here, I'm just surprised it took you this long."
I replied, "I'm glad you know because I'm still not sure."
"You will" she said, "just speak to the three ghost of lost love"
Before I could respond the graveyard was buzzing with life....well...not exactly life.

The first ghost who approached me was a beautiful woman. She told me a story of her first love and how it ended on their honeymoon. She and her new husband were on a dinner cruise off the coast of Greece when a rouge wave capsized their ship. The two clung to a piece of floating debris but it could not support the weight of two. The last thing she remembered was the feeling of blood trickling down her forehead as her "first love" floated away to safety and she sunk to the dark ocean depths.

As she floated away another ghost appeared...this time it was a large intimidating man. His wife of 35 years had created a lot of debt around town with her habitual shopping. But he loved her and assured her that he would work his fingers to the bone to pay off the growing stack of bills. Then one day after a long day she asked him to help her with the toaster, little did he know that he was the one to be "toasted". In the end he did pay off her bills...with the million dollar life insurance policy she collected from his little "accident".

The final ghost was a strange character. He was bubbly and animated as he told me how he had lived in a mansion in the Hollywood hills with his beautiful girlfriend. One morning he pulled out of his driveway and headed down the steep winding road that lead to heart of the city. As the car sped up he noticed a photograph on the seat next to him. It was his girlfriend...laughing in the arms of another man. He would would have stopped right there and gone back to give her a piece of his mind but strangely the brakes didn't work and the car dropped to a fiery end at the next turn. She always said she'd have the last laugh.

The stories the three ghost told me were obviously not of "true love" so I was a bit confused. But I didn't question the reasoning any longer as a book appeared on the ground in front of me.

The pages of the book were fragile and aged. The words described a ritual. The ritual of lost love. Not sure what to expect I continued to read. I read the book through to the end which happened to be just as the sun began to rise in the distance.